The Omega Team: No Control (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The Martin Family Book 3)

by Parker Kincade

  “Since I got back.” She didn’t need to elaborate. He would know what she meant.

  “Have you talked to anyone about it?”

  “Yes.” Humiliation made her cheeks burn. She was a doctor, for pity’s sake. What kind of credibility would she have if her patients knew she had to sleep with a nightlight? “It doesn’t make any sense. The anxiety attacks are random, but the triggers are always the same.”

  “And those triggers are…”

  “Darkness. Gravel roads. Fireworks.” She sighed when Ketcher swore under his breath. “They aren’t consistent, which makes it all the more frustrating with the unpredictability, but I can usually tie them to stress or fatigue.” A humorless laugh bubbled from her throat. “Two things I’m guaranteed to feel in my line of work.”

  Her name floated from his lips. “I’m sorry, baby. The things you’re experiencing, they aren’t your fault. You know that, right?”

  “How can you say that? You don’t know me anymore.”

  “Maybe not the surface stuff. But I know who you are in here.” He tapped her chest in the area above her heart. “I can’t tell you how to feel, nor would I want to. What I will say is everyone has fears, sweetheart. If you want to talk about yours, I’m here to listen.”

  There was no blinking back the tears this time. They leaked over the edge of her lids like mighty soldiers off to battle.

  Ketcher was a good man. Oh, he might try to pretend he was a lone wolf. That he didn’t want or need the things other people wanted or needed. But Regan had always known better.

  “Ah, damn.” Ketcher scooted back down to lay on the bed and opened his arms. “C’mere, baby. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  When he pulled her against his chest and locked his arms around her, Regan knew there was no way she was leaving this encounter with her heart intact.

  She loved him. And whether he’d admit it or not, Ketcher had an incredible capacity for love. His friends were loyal and steadfast. He’d served his country with pride and although she didn’t know what he did for a living now, she’d bet whatever it was, he made the world a better, safer place. None of those things would be possible without love in his heart. Hell, his need to isolate himself from any kind of romantic relationship was itself done out of love, in a backward, twisted, best intentions kind of way.

  Sniffling back the waterworks, Regan toyed with the edge of his bandage. “Will you tell me how you were injured?” The details would probably add to the list of things that kept her up at night, but after sharing her secret with him, she needed something to balance the trust scale.

  “How much did Brandon tell you?”

  “Only what was medically pertinent. The obvious what, but not the who, how, or why.”

  “The details aren’t important. I’m alive. The who isn’t. End of story.”

  His curt answer stung. She levered to her elbow to see his eyes. “What about the person or persons targeting you? It feels like the details of that might be important.”

  “Don’t get pissy with me, Regan.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “You know how this works, but if you want to know, fine. In the process of taking out a really bad dude, another bad dude who wasn’t supposed to be there caught me unawares. He tried to gut me. He failed. Now the bad dude and the really bad dude are dead. Really bad dude has a brother who’s looking for a little payback for the empty seat I created at the family dinner table. Odds are that table is gonna be two short come next Thanksgiving.”

  Regan couldn’t help it. His rendition of the serious events was so ridiculous, she giggled. And then she kissed him. She kissed him for not thinking she was weak. For being supportive instead of offering advice. For making her laugh when she’d wanted to cry.

  She licked the seam of his lips. A dark rumble vibrated from his chest as he pulled away. He cupped her face, his gaze hot and intense.

  “If things were different—”

  She put a finger to his lips. “Please. Don’t.” She didn’t want to rehash the list of reasons why they couldn’t be together. She’d heard it all before.

  Regan dropped back to the bed. “Don’t you get tired of being alone?”

  “There’s always someone who wants to hurt me, Regan. The men we go after, they aren’t the kind of guys who value human life. What do you think they would do to a person I care about?”

  He hadn’t answered her question, though.

  “Are we really going to do this again? Go our separate ways with no plan to so much as speak again?”

  He didn’t speak right away and for every second he was silent, a spark of hope grew. She raised her head to look at him and the hope fizzled out as fast as it had begun.

  “It’s the only way.” His gentle tone belied the tension in his jaw.

  No, it wasn’t, but she didn’t want to spend what little time they had together arguing about it. She’d lost the argument four years ago; she would lose it now.

  “I have to go back to Austin tomorrow, so I guess we better make tonight count.”

  It was all they had left.

  Chapter Nine

  “What’s the news?”

  Grey’s sigh came through the burner phone like a burst of wind. “Carlos Reta’s body was found in the Biscayne River Canal.”

  Ketcher’s grip on the phone tightened. “What the hell? When?”

  “A couple days ago. One round to the head. Two to the chest. Carlos was wearing a shoulder holster with a pistol strapped in place. I pulled some strings and received a preliminary ballistics report. The gun in the holster was a match to the bullets pulled from Carlos’ chest.”

  An incredulous laugh burst from Ketcher’s lips. “What kind of idiot dumps a body with the murder weapon attached?”

  “There were two sets of prints found on the gun. One set belonged to Manuel Barzaga. The other belonged to Anton. Carlos hadn’t been in the water long before he was found. A day, maybe two. Since his time of death was placed well after Manuel was killed, we only have one suspect.”

  “Carlos had other enemies. I agree Anton isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but even he wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave that kind of trail.”

  “He also wouldn’t clean up his own mess. My guess? Little brother’s power trip isn’t going over well with Manuel’s people. Whoever dumped the body probably wanted Anton out of the organization and planted the weapon. However it happened, we now have a legal reason to bring him in.”

  “Is local law enforcement on it?”

  “Among other agencies, but it seems Anton has gone underground. Presumably looking for you.”

  Ketcher hoped so. His mood had progressively worsened during the week since Regan had left the cottage. In the days that followed he almost called her a hundred times. He stared at that piece of paper where she’d written down her number so many times, the digits were burned into his retinas.

  He had less than two conscious days with her, and yet she managed to turn him inside out. He actually spent the last few days considering what it would be like to have her in his life on a more permanent basis.

  Several of the Omega Team guys had spouses or girlfriends. They made it work, but the grumpy attitudes of the guys who had to leave their women behind while on an op, sometimes for weeks at a time, proved being an operative in a relationship was possible, but not easy.

  Were relationships ever easy? The time he and Regan spent together in Afghanistan was the closest he’d come, and the situation had been less than ideal. They’d been too consumed with the activities of war to add to it by creating drama between them. Sex aside—because being with Regan was fucking mind-blowing—would they even be compatible without the stress of war to keep them distracted from the day-to-day minutia? He suspected they would. Neither of them were the theatrical type. Hell, Regan hadn’t even cried when they said goodbye.

  When Alec Martin had shown up to take Regan home, Ketcher wanted to punch him in the face. The gleam in Alec’s eyes as he draped an arm around
Regan’s shoulders indicated the man knew it, too. To make matters worse, Ketcher had to stifle the urge to drag Regan back into the cottage and fuck the living daylights out of her so she wouldn’t even think about allowing the flirty asshole to put his hands on her again.

  How’s that for not being theatrical?

  God, he had lost his fucking mind.

  Even if he wanted to go after Regan—and he did, goddamn it—he wouldn’t. Not while there was an active threat against him.

  “Let’s end this,” Ketcher said into the phone, although he expected it to serve as a heads-up-for-go-time for the six guys sitting around the porch table with him. Brandon, Roman, and Adam on his left. Booker, Noah, and Sully on his right. All ready and willing to do their part to help. “Leak my location. Anton will already know about my injury and will assume I’m not at full capacity.”

  “You aren’t,” Grey reminded him.

  “I’m close enough to get the job done. Spread the word I was worried about Anton’s threat and got the hell out of Dodge.” A variety of snorts sounded, making Ketcher smirk. Yeah, it was total bullshit, but if Anton thought he had Ketcher on the run, the arrogant twat wouldn’t be able to resist coming after him.

  “And then what?” Grey asked. “You can’t take on Anton and the handful of hired guns he’s sure to show up with all by yourself. I’m all for the idea of leading Anton into a trap, but it’ll take time to come up with a plan and send a team in to help.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last week? Sitting on my thumbs and eating bonbons? The plan is all worked out. I have a team of guys here that I trust with my life. Believe me when I say they’ve covered my back more times than I can count and they are well prepared to do it again.”

  Some table thumping followed a soft chorus of oorah.

  “Put me on speaker,” Grey demanded.

  Ketcher hit the button and placed the phone on the table. “You’re on, Grey. Guys,” he said to the table at large, “meet my boss, Grey Holden.”

  When Ketcher finished with the introductions, Grey took the lead. “For the sake of accountability,” Grey said, “none of you will be working independently. Consider yourselves temporary members of the Omega Team for the duration of this op. You’ll thank me if shit goes sideways.”

  The gratitude Ketcher felt for his boss in that moment formed a lump in his throat. If the worst happened, Grey would make sure his brothers were untouchable.

  “We’ve got the cottage and the surrounding property wired,” Ketcher explained. “Noah will work on locating Anton. See if we can get a jump on when he might arrive.” Ketcher caught Noah’s gaze and the man nodded. “The rest of us will keep watch. The minute Anton is within a hundred yards of the property line, we will know. I’m the bait, so I will stay in the cottage while the others take their places around the property. The objective will be containment with as little bloodshed as possible.”

  Brandon leaned toward the phone. “Hey, Grey. Brandon Martin here. The local sheriff is a family friend. I’m sure he would provide accommodations for Anton and his buddies in the county lockup until transport can be arranged. I can call—”

  “Have Ketcher send me his contact information,” Grey interrupted. “I’d rather the request came from my office. Again, for accountability. I’ll make sure he understands Ketcher has the lead and to hang back until contact is made. You guys just make sure to get the bastard. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Yes, sir,” Brandon responded.

  “We’ll get him,” Ketcher added.

  “And I’ll start the leak on your whereabouts. Be in touch.” Grey disconnected the call.

  Ketcher shoved his chair back. “Looks like we’ve got our marching orders, boys. Noah, let me know as soon as you get a hit on Anton’s location. I’d like to at least have an idea as to when the fucker will show himself.”

  “On it,” Noah said.

  “Alec can help with that,” Brandon said, following Ketcher into the kitchen.

  “Whatever it takes.” He opened the fridge and pulled out an energy drink. He could probably lay off the electrolytes now that his appetite had returned in full force, but he was following doctor’s orders. “Alec and Regan seem chummy.” Oh no. That didn’t sound bitter at all. “If he’s going to help, make sure he covers his tracks. I don’t want her linked to any of this. Not in any way.”

  “Alec is the best at what he does. You don’t need to worry about that. Alec wouldn’t want to endanger Regan any more than the rest of us would. They’re friends, and she doesn’t have many of those around here yet.”

  God. Regan should have friends. She should be surrounded by people who loved and appreciated her. “Yet? How long has she been here?”

  “A few months. To my knowledge, outside the hospital the only people she knows are the other members of my family.” Brandon gave him a quizzical look. “You know, I think Texas agrees with you, brother. If you ever feel the need to relocate, there’s a job waiting for you here.”

  Ketcher rocked back at the unexpected offer. “Where’d that come from?”

  “Look, Ketch. I care about you and I care about Regan. You’ve been a goddamn grouch this entire week. Don’t even try to tell me it has nothing to do with her. I was with you the last time the two of you said goodbye, remember?” He sighed. “I know some bad shit happened in your past. I’ve never pried, and I don’t intend to start now. Whatever sins you’re trying to atone for are your business, but from what I’ve seen, you’ve done more good than bad. Maybe it’s time to consider yourself square with the man upstairs and give yourself a break. Christ, man. Can you honestly tell me being without the woman you love is better than being with her?”

  Ketcher had been asking himself the same question all week. “If anything ever happened to Regan because of me…I couldn’t live with myself.” And that was the rub. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

  Brandon clapped him on the shoulder. “Now that you’ve owned up to loving her, I’m confident you’ll figure the rest out.”

  

  Regan exited the hospital through the main emergency room doors. The late night air was oppressive and humid. The sky was starless and dark, but there was no anxiety as she stepped onto the sidewalk lining one side of the circle drive and headed for the parking lot. Only a lingering sadness and a gaping hole in the center of her chest were there to remind her of what—who—she was missing.

  She glanced down at her cell phone, checking for a message she knew wouldn’t be there. Ten days had passed since she and Ketcher had said goodbye outside the little cottage.

  Frustrated, Regan turned the damn thing off and shoved it in the pocket of her jeans.

  At least she hadn’t cried. She’d been too busy being baffled by the display of male posturing between Ketcher and Alec. And then the anger at Ketcher’s audacity had settled in. It was not okay to call an end to their…association, and then act like a growling, possessive asshole when another man dropped an arm over her shoulders and called her “pretty doctor lady.”

  Anger morphed to regret during the ride back to Austin. Not regret for the time she’d spent at the cottage, but regret for Ketcher’s decision to be alone. He’d never be a husband or a dad or a grandfather. It was a shame since he’d be amazing at all three.

  What hurt the most was that he’d chosen a life of meaningless sex over a life with her. He had a dangerous job, so what? Her job wasn’t always safe. Just last month she’d had a patient who grabbed her by the throat. The guy had been twice her size and jacked up on drugs at the time. Her naval training kicked in and she was able to get herself free while avoiding the head butt the patient had been determined to deliver.

  Okay, so maybe an errant patient wasn’t the same as the price on Ketcher’s head. Not even close. But she had military training. She knew how to take care of herself. She wasn’t helpless. She also wasn’t stupid. She understood the risks that came with being with a guy like Ketcher, but she’
d still been willing to try.

  The scent of smoke brought Regan out of her head, realizing she hadn’t been paying a bit of attention to her surroundings. A man was standing at the end of the sidewalk. The glowing orange ember from a cigarette dangled from his lips. He was tall and a little thick through the middle. His face looked weathered, tired. He had arms the size of jackhammers. There wasn’t anything outwardly threatening about the man, but the way he eyed her up and down as she approached gave her pause.

  He rolled the cigarette to one side of his mouth and clamped it between his teeth. He dipped his chin. “Evenin’.”

  “Good evening.” She met his gaze and smiled tightly. She gripped the strap of the messenger bag she carried and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, putting as much space between them as she could. She relaxed when she passed him without further niceties. He was probably the family member of someone being treated in the ER. Just a guy out for a smoke. Still, she found herself searching the expansive parking lot for the security vehicle that regularly patrolled the area and coming up empty.

  The lot was well lit and her car wasn’t far, but the sudden eruption of butterflies in her stomach made her pick up the pace. God, not again. What was wrong with her? If her anxiety had reached the point that she couldn’t cross the parking lot at night, maybe it was time for her to look into medicinal therapy.

  She glanced over her shoulder. The cigarette man was still on the sidewalk, but he appeared to be watching her. Regan’s heart rate shot up and the butterflies became a swarm of angry hummingbirds.

  Remembering her keys, she stuck her hand inside the messenger bag and pulled them free. She slipped the length of one of the keys between her fingers, folding the rest of them inside a tight fist. Not the greatest weapon, but it would do in a pinch.

  The tightness in her chest eased as she approached the back of her car. She let go of the key between her fingers to hit the button to unlock the doors. She skirted around the trunk. Too late she realized a man was there, casually leaning against the car next to hers.